Disappeared After Divorce: Came Back For Revenge のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

​The metallic stench of rusted iron and sweat clung heavy in the damp air between us. I gripped the edges of the rough wooden chair, the splinters biting into my palms as I fought the white-hot fury burning up my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my racing pulse to slow, but the sight of the woman across from me kept kindling the fire. No matter what atrocities she committed, the same blood coursed through my veins. She was still my mother.​"Why did you do it, Mommy?" My voice rattled, hollow and strained, as I restrained the scream building behind my teeth. "I agreed to your plan. I divorced Lora. I turned my back on my own marriage and let Samantha into my life because you swore it was the only way to secure our future. I did everything you asked, and just as we intended, the vast Vance empire became ours. But look where we are now. Karma has finally tracked us down."​She sat hunched across the scarred laminate table, stripped of the tailored suits and diamond heirlooms tha

Niall’s voice echoes through the silence in my head, a steady reminder that I need to pull myself up from this ruin. This time, the foundation has to be real, built on something solid, not carved out of the blood and crime my mother committed when she ended Mr. Vance’s life just to secure our wealth and hand us everything on a silver platter.​I stare at my reflection in the full length mirror standing in the corner of my bedroom. Silence has a weight to it, a deafening pressure that makes the old phrase no man is an island echo with painful clarity. Yet the thought of reaching out feels impossible. I refuse to become a burden, a lingering question mark hanging over Niall or Ian’s shoulders while they try to navigate their own lives.​I draw a slow, heavy breath and study the face looking back at me. The sunken cheeks reveal how much weight I have lost over these weeks of isolation. A dark shadow of a beard and mustache has grown in, rough and unkempt, though it somehow retains a star

​The raw tension in the room snapped as my lips pressed against hers, only for Lora’s palms to slam hard into my chest.​I staggered back, the backs of my legs catching the edge of my leather swivel chair with enough force to send me tumbling into the seat. My knuckles turned white as I grabbed the padded armrests, steadying myself just before the chair could roll out from under me.​A few feet away, Lora stood trembling, her chest heaving as shock gave way to fury. She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth in a harsh, frantic motion, scrubbing away the taste of me. Glinting tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, magnified by pure rage.​"Why did you do that, Carson Hemswood?!" Her voice cracked, tight and sharp. "You have no right to touch me, no right to kiss me!"​I swallowed past the lump in my throat, taking a slow, deliberate breath to compose my face. I pushed myself out of the leather chair, rolling my shoulders back to stand tall. I lifted my left leg, resting the

The hum of overhead fluorescent lights buzzed through the high-ceilinged aisle, casting a sterile glare over row after row of polished glass cabinets. Inside, rows of plush toys—pastel bears with button eyes, velvet rabbits, and oversized fabric creatures—stared back with vacant, sewn-on smiles. My shoes clicked softly against the buffed linoleum as I paced the same three yards of aisle space for what felt like the tenth time. My fingers hovered above a glass display case before dropping back to my side. The air in the store smelled faintly of fresh cotton and plastic wrap. I shifted my weight, my eyes darting toward the distant sliding doors at the front entrance, watching every blur of movement in the reflection of the glass.​My phone sat heavy in my coat pocket. Twelve hours earlier, the screen had glowed in my dark bedroom as I dialed Ian’s number, desperate for a second voice to ground the sudden spiraling in my chest. Now, every second spent alone under the fluorescent lights s

The grand hall swallowed us in a sea of suffocating pastel. Gentle, flush tones covered every surface, from the heavy silk drapes cascading down the walls to the crisp tablecloths dotting the cavernous space. Soft light caught the muted sheen of my own button down sleeves, a delicate baby pink that blended seamlessly into the surrounding decor. Ian and I wove through the scattered clusters of guests toward the front row, where a plush round table bore a metallic card stamped with our names. A few empty seats remained near the back, but otherwise the venue was fast filling with muffled chatter, clinking glassware, and the soft rustle of expensive fabrics.​Near a shadowy corner beneath a gilded arch, Lora leaned in close to Scarlet, her dark eyes flashing as she spoke in low, hushed tones. When Lora stepped away and turned toward the glass doors leading outside, my legs moved before my brain could stop them. I slipped past a waiter balancing a tray of champagne flutes, keeping my strid